Desert Shores
by WoolyJoe
Summary: Commander Shepard leads a small strike force across the vast, empty surface of the planet Sharjila in search of a hidden mercenary compound to rescue the kidnapped sister of an influential diplomat.


A one-off adaptation of a mission from the first Mass Effect - UNC: Asari Diplomacy

**Originally intended to be split into three separate chapters, each following a different character's perspective on the same mission, this short story, for whatever reason, was never finished. But I stumbled across it in an old folder and quite liked it, so I figured: waste not, want not.**

**Although I don't remember how it was originally supposed to continue, let alone end, if enough interest is shown I don't see why it couldn't be finished. So if you find yourself enjoying the first chapter, please review and say what you liked about it and whether you'd like it to go on. And you never know, it just might.**

**Following Urdnot Wrex as he looks out across a vast desert, quietly observing a mercenary compound**

_**I don't own anything - Mass Effect or otherwise**_

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Shadows Against The Sun

Wrex knelt with his heel and knee dug into the volcanic gravel of the ridge and studied the desert stretching out below him. An elbow propped on his knee. The scimitar dropping down his calf hanging gripped in loose fingers. His wrist relaxed. The muzzle brushing the ground lightly. His helmet left beside his feet. The HUD with its dials and statistics all incandescent and ephemeral in solidarity ignored in favour of the naked eye. Blinking slowly he breathed in and felt the heavy ceramics clench against his chest. The stronghold was little over a mile away. Macedon drifted aflame behind him and the shadow of the ridge and the rocks fell out across the deserted plain. Wrex surveyed the scorched earth before him. The crouched figure of himself pulled and distorted. Blinking away the dust and swallowing the planet's coarse atmosphere he choked back the abrasive silica dust with adamant content for the base struggle it posed.

Wrex turned his head away from the wind and glanced towards the mountains far in the south. Silhouetted against an alien sky cutting deep with jagged angles and abstract peaks. The whole thing stretching in a way that just seemed to go on-and-on. His whole surroundings sang of how there was no progress left to be made here. No possibilities to explore. No movement. No signs of life. He turned his attention away from the rocky borderlands and back to the stronghold. His mouth had become dry in the arid environment and he followed the sterile plains before him running flat undisrupted for miles and just came to the same conclusion. Again and again he came to the same conclusion, despite how long he was left to mull it over. Frustrated and jaded he studied the compressed air motes and low haze of shimmering dust, watching it settle over dunes and stones before being kicked-up by the winds again and again. Wrex stared out across the desert. The vastness of it all enough alone to conjure fear and loathing. A landscape preying on doubt or isolation. So desolate and void it's the place angels would go to pray.

There was no other cover and there wouldn't be another chance.

He looked down at the harsh scree falling below him into the barren expanse. A gust of wind whipped the silica dust against the side of Wrex's face so he closed his right eye to shield it from the weather. He smiled into the scorched earth in the only way that's considered possible of him. The world seemed to shift around him. A scant second passes and there's a ripple in the dust or the loose gravel and sand. His eyes shift to the side as if to catch what's happening behind him. Trading the shotgun from his left hand to his right he grabbed it lengthways by the barrel and rose slowly to his feet. Grabbing the Ariake helmet as he stood upright and pulling it on with a one-handed fluidity that comes from repetition Wrex sealed it to his armour's collar. He was blinded for a second before everything became above-clear awash in bright attentive science. Standing he returned the scimitar to his left hand. Gripping the handle it remained lithe by his side whilst he watched the mercenaries' stronghold with a languid predator's gaze. Looking out for the next pair to start their shift. Wrex tilted his head upwards and spoke into the wind. His voice crackling from beneath the mask. Find anything?

Nothing. The entire camp was deserted.

Wrex grunted from within the helmet. A low, hollow sound reverberating beneath inches of metal and electronics. Any connection to the mercs?

Unlikely. It looked like nobody'd been there for years; decades maybe. A complete derelict.

Shepard was somewhere below him climbing the ridge. Just a voice seeping through a re-breather in quasi-androgynous static. Wrex nodded pointlessly and grumbled.

Great. Nothing like a waste of time.

Blinking slowly he looked back to the compound and searched for the absent watch. Shepard's shadow joined his in mocking mirage. Hand on her hip. Standing on the ridge just looking out in kind. Scanning the land before them silent and empty. The pale orange dust growing faint in the sun before it was gone. Carried away in the wind.

Shepard glanced around. Stopping momentarily on the mountains raising high in the distance. Gracing the lurid orange skies. Vast in the vein that leaves gods an enigma and the emotions infinite. Nothing wastes time as much as griping, Wrex.

Wrex snorted in his way and tilted his head towards Shepard. Maybe I like griping.

Shepard nodded to the stronghold. Empty and quiet in the distance. So, what's the situation?

'Bout as we'd expected. Two guards on patrol. Both disappeared inside. Thought they might be trading shifts, but nobody's come out for the last hour or so.

Shepard stared ahead in silence. Featureless behind the visor. A single eye that told all it saw. All to all. Wrex could feel the asari standing somewhat awkwardly on the slope leading up the ridge behind him and he barely heard Shepard ask him his recommended approach. Thoughts?

Some. We can cross the plain. Head straight there. It'll be the quickest and easiest route, but there's no way to get out of sight if anyone turns-up.

Shepard continued to watch the compound. The desolate plain and sand dunes reflected off the visor burning in the sun. I'd sooner avoid giving them any time to prepare for us.

We'll be fine.

What's our alternative?

Wrex extended his arm and pointed with the scimitar. We head north. Cross into the valley and stick to the crest. Wrex lowered his arm and half turned to Shepard. Take up to twice as long but we'll still make it past the guns and any guards won't see us until we're right on top of 'em.

Are you sure it will still get us past the artillery?

Wrex turned his head to Shepard. Staring at her quietly through the heavy mask. Watching her. He waited until she looked towards him to speak. Cocking his head ever so slightly to the side as he did. Didn't I say it would?

Shepard turned and looked to the north at the climbing volcanic gravel and sand. She then turned back to the stronghold and nodded at it. How many clicks away is it?

Wrex turned fully to Shepard and just stared at her. The shotgun hanging by his side. Shepard turned to him. A beat passed between them and Shepard seemed to smile beneath the helmet. This electric click. A small outtake of breath. She moved her head sideways to indicate the stronghold.

How many kilometres is it?

Wrex stared for a moment longer. Turning back to the sands he rolled his shoulders and craned his neck in a small circle. Two. One and a half, maybe. Wrex grunted in amusement and looked over to Shepard. What, you thinking we can make it?

That's what I was thinking.

They stood side by side on the ridge and he felt the asari stumble awkwardly somewhere below him. He didn't see her loose her balance. He didn't have to. He could feel it through the sand. In the dust. He glanced at the mountains. Tracing the angles and peaks he thought about how she didn't belong here. It wasn't the fall. It was less the fall and more the basic act within itself that made him aware. It was her clumsiness, her naivety. They were things that didn't belong here. And Wrex could feel it. A nagging apprehension in the atmosphere. Clinging to the back of his skull like a warning. She had no part in all this and Wrex felt this. And looking across at the great mountains enclosing around them and the sheer distance of everything he thought that Sharjila must have as well. And he knew Shepard must have felt it, to. How could she not? he thought. He looked at Shepard who had half turned and was looking down the ridge at T'Soni as she made her way up towards them both. Trails of disturbed ground climbed up all around her, a small series of craters in the sand where she stumbled in the light. Her armour a gleaming white with crosses of blue here-and-there. Wrex saw she had a kind of tube on her back in place of any firearms. A pipe slung across like a retrograde rifle. Something new, Wrex thought to himself. Either it wasn't worth mentioning or she thought I wouldn't care. Wrex didn't have to think about it for very long to realise he didn't. He watched T'Soni a moment and glanced at the sun burning above her before looking back at Shepard. He turned back to the desert. They both looked the same, but nothing would mistake either one as similar in any other way. Wrex looked into the sky and seemed to be speaking to it directly.

Don't see what we need an archaeologist for – thought this was supposed to be a rescue.

Shepard watched T'Soni a little longer and then sighed and looked around at the landscape. Pulling and loosening the plates climbing around her collar. This is a rescue mission, Wrex.

I wasn't askin'. He turned away from her and stared at the stronghold. Still missing the watch. A beat passing between them. You know what I mean, Shepard. We're not likely to run into the Matriarch here.

She'll be fine, Wrex. She needs some experience with the ground team.

Then maybe she should head back to the rover. Relay progress to the Normandy. Take a supporting role.

She'll be fine, Wrex. She can handle herself better than you seem to think.

So can most asari, Wrex said. But that doesn't mean I'd trust any one of 'em watching my back.

Shepard sighed and shrugged her arms a little. Glancing at Wrex. Then I'll be on point, Wrex, and you can watch her back.

Wrex grunted in a kind of forced laugh. I think you've got that area covered.

She'll be fine, Wrex. I told you to stop griping.

Wrex turned fully to face Shepard. You don't seem to get it, Shepard. We're using her to help takedown the Matriarch – apart from that she's deadweight; completely unnecessary.

Shepard took a step forward and leaned towards Wrex, adjusting her footing against the gravel and rock. You're the one who doesn't seem to understand what we're doing, Wrex.

His fingers tightened a fraction around the scimitar's grip and Wrex took a step forwards. He raised a hand jabbing an armoured finger at Shepard and began to speak but was cut silent when a soft voice called from beneath the increasing winds. Stopping any exchange between them dead and causing them both to turn around in sync.

If you are going to talk about me I would greatly appreciate it if you would do so behind my back and wait until we're no longer lost on some goddess-forsaken, desolate rock.

Wrex looked away at Shepard and watched her for a moment. Noticing how her body seemed to have tightened. A surreal intensity that didn't match or belong. Relax, Shepard, Wrex said. She couldn't hear us through the winds. He lifted up the scimitar and checked it over. Tweaking outputs and checking the parts over flippantly. She's just being paranoid.

He looked around the sky for nothing in particular and then began heading towards the sandy incline to the north and passed Shepard.

She's not paranoid if she's right, Wrex. She's just aware.

Wrex continued across the ridge. His feet sinking into the ground. Small currents of sand and gravel collapsing soundlessly behind the weather. He heard Shepard somewhere behind him calling down to the asari. We're not lost, Liara. Just thinking-things through.

And this rock isn't desolate, Wrex shouted over his shoulder. He turned just as Shepard was helping T'Soni over the last few rocks and drops leading up the scree. Holding out his arms; raising each unflinching despite the scimitar's uneven weight he shouted: Otherwise, why would we be here?

Wrex turned back. Macedon still blazing far in the east as he continued for the valley lying just beyond the rising earth. He could feel their eyes cool against his back in the vein that shadows provide shade and he grunted at the pace beneath his helmet. His breath hot beneath the metal. Scimitar griped tightly rocking slowly to-meet-pace at his side. Frustrated Wrex walked on through the uneven sand leading up into the northern valley. Adamant in his approach to the hidden stronghold.


End file.
